The Promise
by RynStar15
Summary: She made me swear. I gave my word. So I will take her in my arms one last time, though my heart will never survive, because I made a promise.


The brain is a marvelous contrivance, able to handle any number of tasks simultaneously. It can seamlessly weave all the necessary functions of the body while effortlessly interpreting the world around you. It is nearly limitless in the miracles it can perform in a nanosecond.

But for this interminable moment in my life, it seems not to work at all.

I am breathless, speechless, thoughtless. Though it works behind the scenes to pump my heart, move my blood, perform peristalsis, I can swear the entire thing has shut down. That intricate system that works even as I sleep, works unconsciously, tirelessly, has finally met its downfall.

That downfall is Hermione Granger.

My mind is used to this woman by now. It is used to flaring my ire at her insinuations, to inducing my virulence at a single word, to cowering in terror at her compassion. It is used to burning with desire at one look, to melting entirely with a touch. It is used to her.

So how is it that now, when she needs me most, it is failing her? _I_ am failing her.

"No."

It is the only word I can say, the only one that makes sense. It is the least useful and yet only appropriate word at this moment, this desperate, endless, horrifying moment.

"No."

I close my eyes, hoping this will shift the attention, hoping this cowardly gesture can somehow rearrange time and space, can change the circumstances, can make a new reality, one not fraught with anguish.

"You promised."

I falter, nearly jerk with the accusation, the truth behind the words. Yes, I had. I had made a promise, one I'd never meant to carry out, one I'd never thought would come true. But she'd told me, she'd told me what would happen, what she wanted from me when it did. I hadn't believed her. Like so many others, I had misjudged her, underestimated her. Because who was Hermione Granger to predict the future?

"You hate Divination."

I say it now as I had then. A truth, something to grab onto, a lifeline as I drown. She smiles, a gesture which my sensory-logged brain cannot handle, a gesture which it never could. A smile from Hermione Granger could fell an army, topple a nation, kneel an empire. It is a wonder of this world I am fortunate enough to receive, though the gods know I don't deserve it.

"I do."

I crumple at those words, words which should be spoken in a different context, one so opposite from this, one which I should have brought her to. But my cowardice is legendary and it has brought us to this moment instead, to this instant in which these two words are spoken so blithely and yet rend my heart just as easily.

"You promised," she reminds me again, her words strained, painful even to my ears. I nod, my arguments caught in my throat, another organ of mine which has decided to shut down right at this moment, this endless and crucial moment. I use the muscles which are still at my disposal and draw her nearer, her tiny, limp body draped across my legs, her blood, the blood we had started a war over, spilling over mine.

My hands quake as they situate her, as they grab for the current which flowed out of her mindlessly, her own body seeming to mimic my own.

"Malfoy." She coughs, a horrid, wet sound, and I lift her as she heaves, throw us both down as a flash of green sings overhead. "Please."

"Where?" I croak, a sound so foreign I barely recognize it.

"Quiet. Anywhere where I can't hear. Please."

I nod, understanding. The siege roars around us, screams of terror, of grief, of anger and strife. This battle was one for the books, one that would be spoken of for hundreds of years to come.

But not by me.

"Hold on to me, Granger," I bid. Her weak hands grip my shoulders and I close my eyes, focusing, hands clenching, body turning.

We land bone-jarringly and she gasps. I draw her into my arms, cradling her as I rise, moving quickly but as gently as possible.

"It's alright, Granger," I whisper. "It's alright now."

The cabin is a small one, a hunting cabin, one used by Muggles. I'd run across it during a raid. Something about it called to me, urged me to seize it. While the others weren't looking I'd placed my guards, so strong that they'd all had the sudden urge to run furiously into the forest, to get as far away from that small, and seemingly barren, clearing as possible.

Now, I stumble into my secret dwelling, barreling the door open and carrying the woman I'd hated for most of my life across the threshold, storming to the bed in the corner and placing her atop it.

She is shivering, her lips blue.

"I'll start a fire-"

"No."

I look at her, at the small hand on my forearm, stilling me. I am powerless to move away, held by those eyes which had enraptured me more times than I cared to admit.

"You're freezing."

"I'm dying."

"Don't."

She smiles then, transforming her face from Granger to Hermione, from enemy to enigma.

"Thank you."

"Don't."

"Don't tempt my tenacity, Draco Malfoy."

I shiver at the sound of my name from her mouth. She whimpers and I place my hands back at her side, the one purging her of life, the red spilling over my fingers and bedspread. I reach for my wand. She stills me.

"It's no use."

"I have to try-"

"It won't do any good." Her voice is so calm it's grating. How can she be so calm? "Please, just…be with me."

"I am."

"Are you?"

The breath falls from my lips and I shake my head, unable to look at her for a moment as I steel myself. Who can prepare for a moment like this? Who can possibly comprehend the emotions that entail watching a former enemy and a current enigma die right in front of you?

I sigh, bringing my attention to her, to the present. I kneel beside her, grabbing her hand "I'm here. I promised you, Granger. I'm right here."

She seems to calm. "Good. That's good."

"I need to stem the bleeding."

"Do as you must, but it's futile."

"I have to try."

"Hmm."

I take it as an acquiescence and murmur spell after spell, easing the flow of dark red life. Eventually, I Conjure dressings and wrap them around her over and over.

By the time I look up she is ghostly pale. And still. So still.

"Granger, look at me."

My voice is harsh, hard enough to break glass. Her eyelids seem to be leaden as she eases them open.

"Still here."

"You're not going anywhere."

"I meant you."

She ignores my comment purposefully. My jaw clenches. "Where else would I go?"

"Away."

I scoff. "I made a promise."

"You hate me."

"No."

"You did."

"Yes. I did."

"Not anymore?"

It was a question, as if she truly didn't know the answer. I found her tiny hand again, a hand which I'd watched flailing in the air during every class, which had healed, which had cursed, which had killed. Which had loved.

"No. Not anymore."

Her lips quirk and I nearly beg.

"Let me take you to St. Mungo's."

"It will do no good."

"Madam Pomfrey-"

"Malfoy-"

"I can get you help-"

"You promised."

I fall silent under her accusation. I can't deny her anything, even this, even this thing which might kill me as well.

"I don't want to die in this cabin."

"It's safe, I can heal you-"

"The river."

"What?"

"Take me to the river."

"Granger-"

"Please."

Damn her.

She's cradled to my body, her head against my shoulder. I stumble over stones and snow, make my wobbly way down to the edge of the surging river which is swollen and thunderous. I settle down beside it, nearly touching, and nestle the small woman between my legs.

She sighs, a sound which breaks me.

"Granger please-"

"It's alright," she soothes. It's like her to soothe at a time like this, a time where she should be comforted. But it's not her place to stand by and allow the suffering of man. It's what led her to this particular moment in time, this moment which seemed so ethereal.

"Tell me a story," she entreats, then winces again, taking a shaky breath. I tighten my hold. "Please, anything…"

I nod, burrowing into her warmth for just a moment, gathering strength from her. "There once was a boy who was handsome and clever."

She snorts, a sound so familiar I crack a little bit more.

"So clever and yet so blind."

She seizes at that moment in pain and I clutch her tight, pressing her head into the crook of my neck, curling tighter around her. "He knew everything and yet nothing at all. Then he met a girl, a stubborn, bushy haired lass who challenged him, who fought him at every turn. She proved to him that he was not so clever as he had thought, and that, handsome as he was, nothing could compare to the beauty she could bring to the world."

Hermione Granger moans in agony. "Shh," I hush, brushing her hair from her face as a frigid breeze whirls around us. "Look at the water. Look at the water and listen to my voice."

I turn her head, angling her slightly so that her view is to the rushing current before us. I draw my cloak tighter around her, whispering a Warming Charm, wishing I had a Pain Potion. I mutter a Numbing Charm against her side and she exhales, her tense muscles relaxing slightly. Tucking my wand away, I wrap my arm back around her, dragging her close, and continue my story.

"One day, this unknowing beauty slaps the handsome boy. Slaps him so hard she knocks some sense into his damn head. So hard that it was ringing for years afterward, full of doubt and regret, emotions the handsome boy had never felt before. It was a slap into reality."

I can feel her frown.

"Why didn't the boy tell her?"

"The boy was scared," I admit. "The girl questioned everything he'd ever known. The girl was beautiful where she should have been ugly, smart where she should have been stupid, compassionate where she should have been vile. The boy couldn't help but be entranced."

The girl clenches her fingers against my arm, her body seizing once more, coughing, red flecking the snow. My arm crosses her chest, drawing her against mine, holding her tight.

"I've got you."

"I never doubted you."

I nearly drop her.

I tremble, burrowing into her neck as she had done to me, finding solace.

"Why me?"

She smiles. I glance up when I feel it, see a smear of crimson at the corner of her mouth as her mahogany eyes meet mine. "You know why."

I break. I find those lips, taste them, the bitter iron, the sweet musk of her. I find the wonder, the solace in my life I'd been searching for, hoping for, praying for, finding it in her.

The soft noise she makes is nearly my undoing. My hand is cupping her neck and I can feel her fading, feel the strength waning.

I pull away from her mouth by a breath. "Please, Hermione," I beg again. She can't leave me, not now. "Let me take you in."

"You promised."

"I know, dammit!" I snap, incised that I'd ever been foolish enough to doubt her, to make this thoughtless promise in the first place.

"It's alright," she repeats, cupping my cheek, her voice weak, her eyes solemn. "This is how I want it. The river sounds so peaceful."

I listen for a moment and can't help but agree, the rushing current ripping at my fear.

"I don't want to lose you."

I don't even think these words as they tumble from my mouth. She crooks an eyebrow, that red spot has smeared from my lips onto her chin. "A Malfoy never loses."

I smirk, though it's painful. My thumb rubs her cheek. "In this, it seems, I do."

"You hate me."

"No."

"What changed?"

"Me."

She smiles and I melt straight into the frozen ground. Her voice is harsh when she speaks, as if she has to force it.

"Yes. You did. It's the greatest accomplishment of my life."

I ponder this for a moment, want to argue it, but she's coughing again.

I sit her up, grasping at the wound, holding it as she spasms. I cradle her back into me as it lessens. I know there is nowhere I'd rather be than right here in this gruesome, horrific moment.

"Thank you."

She looks up, brow furrowed, eyes heavy. "For what?"

"For saving me."

She beams, her eyes closing. "You saved yourself. I just smacked you into action."

I grin, the gesture falling from my lips as her body eases, growing heavy.

"Granger, open your eyes."

"I can't," she breathes, strained. She shudders.

"Please, just one more time," I beg, my voice quaking with dread.

She does, of course she does, and I am blessed with one last moment in her chocolate depths, that warm, soul healing gaze.

"I always believed in you."

A whisper. A salvation. With what seems to be momentous effort, she raises her bloody hand, cupping my jaw, brushing away a tear I hadn't known had escaped.

"Don't," she mimics, a small, blood smeared word.

"I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"Life without you."

Her smile lights up her face, leaking into her eyes, masking the pain for just a moment. "Oh Draco, you know me better than that. I'm in your head. It'll take more than my death to be rid of me."

"The unshakable Hermione Granger."

She laughs softly, her eyelids falling again. "I like the sound of that. Say it again."

I don't have to ask for clarification, I understand what that word holds for us both. I grab the hand that's fallen, entwine our fingers.

"Hermione."

Her smile widens, falls. She grows heavier.

"I have to go now."

Her voice is barely audible. I swallow the lump of protests in my throat and nod, though she can't see.

"It's alright, Hermione," I choke out softly, caressing her knuckles. "You can go now. I'll be right here, I'll never leave your side. I promise."

I lean down, pressing my lips to her warm forehead, cradling her close. I don't move except to take her head when it becomes too heavy, to hold her up as she's done for me so many times before.

I am still there, hours later, her skin cool against mine, upholding my promise.


End file.
